


The Whirling Ways of Stars That Pass

by Pan_with_no_plan, TheBiSpy



Series: The Nova/Rogue Co-Author Fun Times Series [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: @ nova, Angst, B I T C H, Cyberpunk, F/F, F/M, Fucking, Homophobia, Hydra (Marvel), Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Riots, Tags, Transphobia, add tags maybe, ahaha, alrighty, anyway, being dicks, fuckiNG HELLO FAM, fuuuhhuuuuck, hEEYYY O, lets take a dive into these, nova can add tags, or it’s mentioned in passing, space, we got yo, we got you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-06-29 06:42:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15724056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pan_with_no_plan/pseuds/Pan_with_no_plan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBiSpy/pseuds/TheBiSpy
Summary: The year is 2235. The quadrant is run by the harsh dictatorship of HYDRA. Somewhere, a revolution is brewing. But there can be no victory without sacrifice.





	1. What a Friend We Have in Congress

**Author's Note:**

> so we started a series and that’s my fault. blame me, Rogue, because I have an over active immagination and procrastinate too much.

_Prologue_

He joined the revolution when he was eight years old. 

In truth, he’d been a part of it for as long as he could remember, however he didn’t truly realise until the public execution of Sarah Rogers. 

James Buchanan Barnes remembers the 15th of August 2225 as clear as day, even ten years on. His parents had left the house at ten in the morning, looking worried about something he couldn’t understand. He’d asked, of course, where they were going. He’d been sitting on the floor playing with some old, colourful glowing blocks, seeing how high he could stack them before Rebecca knocked them down. The answer his father gave him was an unsatisfactory, “We’re going to the city centre. Your mother and I are under an obligation to attend by law.” The same answer that was supposed to have to confused him into not questioning, however long ago he’d figured out it was fancy talk for, “we need to do this or we’re all going to be taken away.”  
It didn’t dispel his curiosity in the least, and instead he waited until the engine of their car had faded into the background so he could walk across to the next building and find Steve Rogers. 

The glow of the hovering lights above the street were fading as the perpetual cloud of smog above the city became more transparent to the sunlight that pushed its way through during the daylight hours. He’d crossed the grimy street to the equally grimy apartment block across from his own, made his familiar way up the stairs where people sat and smoked or gambled, and knocked on the Roger’s door. 

There came no reply. 

“Hey Steve, open up.” Bucky called under the crack beneath the thin door. 

“Wouldn’t bother kid,” a woman rasped from the stairs above him. Her head was tilted up, eyes closed and lipstick smudged at one corner. He noticed a long rip in her black tights. “They came last night and took the blond chick.” 

Bucky stood up and pouted, dusting the grime off his hands into his faded jeans. “Who came?” 

The woman groaned. “The UNITS. United Inteligence Service? Government police?” She tried when he still looked confused. 

“Th’ police? Ain’t they them good folks?” 

She laughed, but it sounded hollow and raspy. It ended in her coughing violently into her hands. “You livin’ ‘cross the road kid?” He nodded.  
“You got a lot to learn in these parts. They ain’t good to people like you ‘n me. How’ja think I got this?” 

He realised it wasn’t smudged lipstick across her face. It was dried blood from a split lip. “Still, what I’m sayin’ is; whoever’s in there you lookin’ for, they’re in the square later. All I can say is we tried to stop ‘em takin’ her. Wasn’t any fuckin’ use I guess.” 

He knocked again on the door, more desperately. “Stevie, c’mon. You ain’t bin’ takin’ by them UNITS have ya?”  
Bucky continued listening for footsteps in the hall. The woman on the stairs pushed her coily black hair out of her eyes and stood up. 

“Hope you find whatcha want. I ain’t makin’ no promises.” She walked heavily away, and he noticed a limp in her step. 

“Steve,” he dragged out the ‘e’ for a few moments. “C’mon, let me in. It’s just me.” 

The door swung open suddenly to reveal a small figure swamped in a blanket. “Heyo Buck,” Steve muttered sleepily. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“M’parents have just got goin’ into the city. They said into the town square. Come with? I wanna know what’s goin’ on.”  
The conversation with the woman on the staircase was already forgotten for the moment. 

“Gimme a minute or two,” Steve ushered him into the cramped hallway before disappearing to his bedroom. 

The minute he walked into the apartment, Bucky realised something was horribly, terribly wrong. While there was no obvious sign of struggle, he noticed how there were unfamiliar boot prints on the carpet, a flowerpot slightly out of place, kitchen cabinets open slightly while inside all the medicine had been removed. 

“Steve,” he called. “What happened here?” 

Steve emerged from his small bedroom wearing actual clothes as opposed to a blanket and started to make himself cereal in a chipped bowl. “Las’ night my Ma got all panicked like, and she told me I had to sleep in this little hidden place in the wall. I didn’t know it was there before but she was tellin’ me to get in it. I wasn’t allowed to make noise she said. The minute I was in it though I couldn’t hear what was going on outside of it. Bucky, I’m thinkin’ it’d been soundproof. But I fell asleep and I woke up just before you was knockin’ on my door. Glad I had,” he said through a mouthful of cornflakes. “‘Else I might not have heard you.” 

“Well there’s this funny woman I was speakin’ too on the stairs who said that the police had come here last night.” Bucky replied nonchalantly. 

“I didn’t hear no one.” 

“That’s because you said the room was soundproof!” He pointed out, grinning. 

“Yeah, sure. Dunno what they’d want from us though.” 

 

The two caught the bus into the city centre, after Steve had written a hasty note to his mother saying he’d be back by three in the afternoon at the very latest and that she needn’t worry because Bucky was with him. They’d quickly scampered down the stairs, unaware of the amazed looks Steve was receiving from some of the residents, who all assumed he’d been taken along with his mother, and Bucky had pulled a crumpled $5 note from his pocket that paid for both of them. 

The city centre was packed full, almost so much that neither could move. Bucky was holding Steve’s hand loosely, just enough that they didn’t get separated, conscious of how people would look at them if they weren’t as young as they were. They could get away with ‘just being boys’ for a few more years yet.  
They found that people were beginning to let them through to the front of what turned out to be a gathering around the empty square, and as they got closer to the front they found more kids their age standing with the same look of excitement and confusion. 

“Hey,” Bucky nudged Owen Poldar, one of his classmates who he happened to be standing close to. “What’s goin on? Do ya know?” 

Owen shook his head and red hair fell across his dark brown eyes. “They sayin’ some kinda criminal. It’s a punishment thing but I dunno what. They ain’t gonna let anyone come closer, coz the police is scared kids are gonna get frightened if they get too close. We ain’t supposed to make a noise when th’ mayor comes forward.”

“Not a sound?” Steve asked in confusion. 

“Not even a cough. Not till it’s all over. Bree told Jax told Finn told Kara told me we ain’t allowed to cry either. They hear a child cry they get beaten.” 

“That ain’t true,” Bucky scrunched up his nose, but Owen was shushing him. Everyone was shushing each other. Someone in a fancy suit walked steadily forward and the screens on the buildings that surrounded them began displaying footage of the man. He had grey hair, almost the same colour as his suit, and a harsh face even though he was smiling. 

“Citizens of New York,” he began, voice amplified artificially so it rang around the square. His voice was commanding, yet oddly friendly. Bucky didn’t like it. He already didn’t like whoever the man was.  
“My name is Mayor Alexander Pierce. I run this city on behalf of HYDRA. Your government. It is my duty to enforce the law, and harshly as an example for others. Last night, we discovered someone who was illegally dispersing medicine from her apartment. HYDRA has decreed her execution. The production of medicine by the ordinary civilian is against the law. The resale of medicine is against the law. They could be giving people untested, dangerous drugs that could kill the innocent, everyday person. That is why medicine costs money. That is why prescriptions cost money. While you pay $200 for your pills, you can be guaranteed safety and quality.” 

Two police officers began walking out with a woman who didn’t seem to be struggling against their grip. She almost seemed peaceful. He wondered if she knew she’d committed a crime, an unspeakable one by the way Pierce was making it out to be. A third man began following them, a large gun in his hands. 

“This woman, by law, shall be executed as a warning to other criminals.”  
He could feel the tension in the air, almost so thick that he could have touched it. Across the square, the woman was forced roughly to her knees and the men stepped aside. 

“The date is the fifteenth of August, twenty-two twenty-five.” He began as though speaking for a record. He probably was. “Perpetrator: Sarah Genevieve Rogers.” 

Steve’s hand tightened in his, and Bucky’s heart stopped. _Sarah Rogers?_ She was a _criminal?_  
The man with the gun raised it and took aim. The sun glinted dully off the barrel. Bucky couldn’t look away, even though he wanted to. He found his eyes were glued on the almost calm form of Sarah Rogers.  
There was a moment when he could hear the heartbeat of everyone around him, before a single shot echoed around the square. Blood sprayed out behind her and suddenly her body crumpled to the ground. No one dared to move. 

“Gathering dismissed.” Pierce said eventually. The screens began playing the usual brightly coloured adverts, and the people began to disperse, going about their day. Steve’s hand was still tight in his and the boy looked like he was about to cry, even though he couldn’t. He just wasn’t allowed. 

“Let’s go.” Bucky whispered. 

 

The minute they climbed the stairs to Bucky’s flat and were sitting on the ratty sofa in the cramped living area, Steve’s shoulders began to shake. 

“I don’t understand why,” he sobbed into Bucky’s shoulder. “She was just tryna help folks. She ain’t do nothing wrong.” 

Bucky couldn’t reply. HYDRA said she was a criminal. All she wanted to do was help people. Medicine was more expensive than most could afford, and going to the doctors was unheard of in their area. A few years later, he’d look back with rage, as a new understanding filled in the blank gaps in his mind. 

His parents arrived shortly afterwards, looking shaken. His mother noticed the two on the couch and immediately knew where they’d been. 

“I’m sorry Mam it’s just I didn’t know what was goin’ on an’ I wanted to an’ Steve wanted to so we catched th’ bus and went an’ people was lettin’ us to the front an’ I ain’t never goin’ ‘gain I swear-“

“What’s done is done, James.” She cut him off sternly. Her harshness melted away quickly, after seeing the hurt look across his face.  
“Listen, now this is important.” She crouched beside them. Steve’s small body was still curled up in Bucky’s lap, but he was quiet. “What you saw today, many would say is a good thing.” Winifred began in a hushed tone. Bucky knew it was serious, so he took extra care to listen. “But many, especially in these parts, disagree. Your father and I are part of a resistance group and we’re working so that people, good people like Sarah, don’t have to die. Once upon a time, around two hundred and ten years ago, she wouldn’t have been killed. Two hundred and ten years ago a lot more was acceptable. We’re working to make it that way again. You don’t repeat a word of what I’ve said, understood?” Bucky nodded.  
“Good.” 

From that moment onwards, Bucky decided he was going to be part of the resistance. A part of something bigger. 

 

Steve was to be looked after by two young women in the stairs down from where the Barnes family resided. Bucky was told that Steve’s name was now Steven Martinelli in public, as he lived with Angie Martinelli. Angie was Steve’s ‘Aunty’, and after the tragic and untimely death of his parents in a car crash, he was sent to live with her and her flat mate, Peggy Carter.  
As the two grew older, Steve told him that Peggy and Angie weren’t really flat mates, they just used that term to be safe. 

“What are they then?” Bucky had asked. They’d been sitting on the roof looking up at the stars through the thin layer of smog when Steve had mentioned it. Bucky reckoned he could almost see a few starships floating lazily across the night sky. 

“Girlfriends.” The blond boy replied nonchalantly. He flicked a loose stone off the roof. 

“Why they need to be safe? Ain’t illegal is it?” He’d seen people before, in their buildings and the street. Girls and guys holding hands and kissing lightly, like how his parents did. 

Steve shrugged. “Not illegal. It’s just not seen as a good thing. If they were open about it, HYDRA would call it ‘homosexual propaganda’ even if it’s not really. That’s illegal.” 

“Why?” He’d asked. 

Steve shrugged, and Bucky could tell under the calm demeanour he was furious. “I dunno. I just wish they didn’t have to hide. I wish no one did. Two hundred and ten years ago they didn’t.”

Even at eleven years old, Bucky wished the same, for the sake of Peggy and Angie. At fifteen he began to wish for it for himself.  
The same stars shone in the sky when he’d first said it out loud. 

“I don’t wanna hide.” The night air was warm, and it stung the healing wounds on his face. Another protest, another fight, another day running back home through alleys and long-forgotten tunnels to avoid the UNITS. They’d started calling it ‘The Golden Hour’, a period between the beginning of a protest and when the UNITS were sent to shut it down. Protesting wasn’t illegal per se, but HYDRA got uncomfortable when the press tried to cover it. It took the press one hour to be there so by then, the UNITS could claim it had been violent and they needed to clean it up. Usually with the violence they pinned on the protesters. 

Steve had been sitting beside him with his legs crossed, and his blond hair had fallen into his eyes when he looked at Bucky. Steve was still as skinny as he’d been seven years ago in Bucky’s mind, still small, but with more anger. They’d thought he’d grow like Bucky had, taller, more muscular, a better fighter. Steve was mad he couldn’t hold his own, that none of what they’d thought would happen would come true. 

“Hide?” Steve asked. Bucky hadn’t taken his eyes off of the small, multicoloured constellation above them. He had it burned into his mind by then. Bucky almost laughed. It had been his favourite since he could remember and it almost seemed to be a message. 

“Steve, I-“ he tried to speak but his tongue suddenly felt bigger than his mouth. This was the first time he’d said it out loud, and even though he knew it wasn’t an issue, it was still hard to say. “I think... I think I might be gay.” 

Steve was quiet for a moment. “What’d you mean?” 

“You know what I mean.” Bucky sighed, wrapping his arms around himself. “I’ve kissed girls but it ain’t what the other boys at school say it’s like. It’s not... I jus’ don’ like it. And then,” he found that once he started he couldn’t stop. “And then a few months ago I was at a protest and there was this guy and we were kind of flirting a bit, and when the police turned up we ran away from them together and it was all spur of the momen’ but once we’d lost them I think we were both so adrenaline fuelled that we kissed and it kinda got...” he trailed off. 

“You had..?” Steve looked shocked. 

“No, of course not it was just...” he couldn’t hide how red he was going. His mind flashed back to florescent lights outside of a dark alley, police sirens in the distance, hands under his shirt and his hot lips trailing down the others neck and all the little noises the other teen had made and it was so much _better_ than girls-  
“It was just passionate. Kind of.” 

Steve went silent. Bucky didn’t dare look at him, instead he closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of the city. The cars, the occasional siren, children shouting below them. 

“You hear back from him?” 

Bucky opened his eyes suddenly. “No.” 

“Would you want to?” 

The question set him on edge. While it had been nice, while _he_ had been nice...  
“I don’t think so.” 

 

He’s sixteen when he starts noticing.  
He starts noticing things about Steve he knew before but not in the way that he wants to. He starts noticing the sharp line of Steve’s jaw and the curve of his lips, the way his laugh is warm and his voice is rich, how he looks when he’s pumping his fist in the air at protests and how his cheeks flush after running for their lives. He notices the lingering eye contact between them, or how they’re hands brush and his heart speeds up. Steve gets snakebite piercings and Bucky found all he wanted to do was feel their cold metal under his lips. He thinks he catches Steve staring once or twice after he gets a tattoo on his ribs.

He notices how Peggy and Angie smile secretly at each other when it happens, as though the two of them know something Steve and Bucky don’t. 

 

It happened when they were sitting at the top of the crumbling concrete stairwell, as the rain smacked the roof above them and lights from small fires set by squatters illuminated the tall building. Bucky was looking down between the bars on the stair rail, watching the flickering of shadows on the wall, when Steve spoke. 

“We need to talk.” It was simple, yet almost commanding. Bucky turned his head to look at the blond. 

“We do?” 

“Apparently, or at least that’s what my Mum’s ‘ave said. But I agree with ‘em.” 

Bucky’s palms began to sweat. “Ok,” he nodded. “Ok, what- what about?” 

Steve sighed in frustration. “ _Us_ , Bucky. All the shit that’s been happenin’-“

“What’s been happening?” 

“Don’t play dumb with me, please.” Steve begged, looking tired. “I’ve been being a real selfish prick as of late ‘n I feel pretty bad about it.” 

“How?” 

“I’ve been just... we make eye contact and I keep it for too long and our hands brush when I get too close and then when we’re out sometimes I just-“

“Are you apologising?” Bucky interrupted. 

Steve buried his face in his hands. “I’m trying to.” When he looked up again, Bucky noticed the hardened look across Steve’s features. The one that hid too much. The one Bucky hated.  
“Look, I know you like guys, and I know you know I like them too, but I’ve been trying to drop hints that I like _one_ in particular and I feel bad about it because just because we’re close and both of us are queer doesn’t mean that you like me in that kind of way but I like you a lot but it’s not fair on you that-“

Bucky leant forward and pressed his lips against Steve’s momentarily, before he realised what he was doing. Then he did, and pulled back. 

“Oh my- shit. You talk too much Rogers.” He gasped. Steve was looking at him in disbelief. 

“You just- did we just- do you _want-“_

But their lips were clashing together again, sweet and raw. Bucky’s hands were holding Steve’s waist as they moved closer, his lips parting slightly as though asking. He could feel warm flesh and cold metal beneath his lips and it was almost too good to be true. Had he not dreamed of this? It was messy and uncoordinated but so, _so_ beautiful. 

They broke apart more gently, foreheads resting against each other’s, noses bumping. Bucky could hear his heart beat in time with his breathing, and he laughed quietly. 

“What?” Steve asked in an almost frightened tone, and he felt bad. Did Steve think he was playing him? Really?

“It’s just... I’ve been imagining this for so long that now it’s happening...” he murmured in between breaths. 

“I know.” Steve whispered. And smiled.  
Bucky looked up as they leaned back a little, taking in the shadows and odd flickers of light that passed across Steve’s face from fires below them and how beautiful Steve looked as he smiled to himself, curled loosely against the wall. 

“Most people go on a few dates before they do this y’know,” Steve said quietly. 

“Well,” Bucky leaned over and murmured beneath the blond’s ear. He heard Steve’s breath hitch as their hands intertwined against the cold concrete wall behind him. “We’ve never been most people, have we Steve?” 

Steve hummed as Bucky pressed a kiss below the blond’s jawline.  
“Never wanted to be.” He bent his head down to whisper in Bucky’s ear. The brunet shivered as Steve tangled his hands through Bucky’s long, wavy hair. “Not when we’ve had each other for so long.” 

“Not when we’re gonna overthrow the government.” Bucky replied with a smirk. 

“Is that treason I hear? Barnes, you’re gonna get in trouble with a mouth like that.” 

“You have no idea, Rogers.”


	2. neon gravestones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The were seventeen when it truly began.

They were seventeen when it truly began, though they had thought the beginning was far behind them already. They were seventeen and HYDRA’s hold on their small world had grown tighter after every passing day; after every protest ripped apart by blood and capture, every night spent hidden away from the prying eyes of surveillance drones, and every morning when they woke to the news of another loss, another disappearance.

Bucky’s swift steps echoed dully through the ally, the thud of Steve’s boots a beat behind him. Lights sped past above, staining the walls on either side red. The shapes of starships were blurred against the foggy sky, indistinct; Bucky struggled to remember the last time he’d seen the stars.

“What’s the clock say?”

He glanced down, drawing out a gadget from his deep pockets. 6.48 flashed brightly on the semi-transparent screen. “Ten minutes ‘till curfew. We’ll make it.”

They emerged from the alleyway and turned left, heading downhill. A few vehicles passed them by on their way home: a couple of service vans and a UNIT car, trailing bright tails of light behind them. Each time one came close they both tensed, only letting their shoulders fall once they had driven far ahead. Dust swam through the air, passing through the orange glow of street lamps that intermittently lit their path home.

They made it. Masked night-officers had already started patrolling the streets, waiting for the first moment past the hour to begin seizing anyone who wasn’t safely behind doors. Bucky followed Steve through the dirt paths that crisscrossed behind tower blocks and harshly-lit casinos that slouched against each other in the half-light of evening. They reached the hollowed-out doorway in the side of an old back street and clambered down the cold stone steps.

The cellar had been his mother’s idea. Any step backwards from the prying eyes of HYDRA was a good idea, especially with the attention they drew from all their unwanted escapades; fleeting dangerously back and forth between their reach, drawing ever closer yet always managing to get away. Bucky wasn’t naïve enough to believe that he would remain uncaptured forever. Eventually, they would run out of luck, run out of time. It was the fate of those who fought back, as sure as the stars in the sky would someday burn out. 

But the rage that lit him from the inside out, the rage at the injustice and delusion that HYDRA battered into the world every day without mercy, that rage would not let him rest. Bucky knew that Steve felt it too. Their numbers were always too few, and every day they faced a world that pushed against them relentlessly, kicking them back down into the gravel whenever they found a way to stand. But they would keep fighting, down to the last curse, or stone hurled against an armoured state car, or desperate escape through a crowded avenue.

“Good evening, boys,” Angie called, standing by the kitchen as they crouched through the door. ‘Kitchen’ was a glorified term, referring to a sink, a small gas stove, and cupboard of steel utensils that had been crammed together in a corner of the one-room cellar. It was large and grey, with a low ceiling and peeling walls. The room was divided into cooking, seating, washroom, and sleeping space, where a pile of sleeping bags and lumpy pillows sat waiting to be unrolled. A couple of narrow widows spewed out golden light onto the floorboards. Peggy was sat on the worn sofa, reading through text on the battered screen of her tablet. 

“Where’s Ma and Da?” Bucky’s voice was toneless. It was past curfew. They should be here, they never risked staying out later, and if they had planned to, he would know. 

Angie frowned, the beginnings of concern seeping into her voice as she spoke. “They’re not with you? Huh.” Glancing behind Steve’s head to the closed door, her mouth twisted. “Well.”

A horrible slash of nausea cut though Bucky’s stomach. They should be here. “When did they head out?” 

Peggy looked up. Spoke calmly. “It must be six hours ago by now.” Another sickening slash. He thought of that imaginary world that Ma sometimes liked to talk about - two hundred and ten years ago. When people could turn up late and no one would fear the worst, because the worst was unimaginable. But they were here, now, where the worse was always assumed. Now, it was a given that they would find you. The only question was when, and how quickly it would be over.

Steve’s arm rested carefully on to his shoulder. “They’ll be fine, Buck. They’ll be back.” Bucky stared down at him, trusting. He kept staring, knowing that if he looked up again he’d see two worried faces looking back at him. But Steve knew his parents would be fine, knew with a bone-deep certainty. Bucky stared back and tried to hang on to that certainty.

\---

They sat in the dying light, waiting.

Half an hour.

They should be here.

An hour.

They should fucking be here.

Two. 

At eleven o’clock Bucky silently rose, walking to the opposite wall. He slammed his fists against it, again and again. 

“Bucky!”

Harder and harder.

“Bucky, please!”

He stopped. Stamped his foot like a child, still facing the wall. “I’m gonna find them. I’m gonna go out and fucking find them.”

Angie’s voice and Peggy’s, fighting to hold him back with futile comments. They’re not gone forever. Don’t risk your own life for this. You can’t--

Steve remained quiet. Bucky turned to see him, sitting rigidly on the sofa, a tense figure than anyone else might think of as calm. Bucky stood unmoving, then strode to the entrance in a couple of steps, disappearing through it. The heavy door snicked behind him.

Rain slashed against the pavement, running through gutters and steaming down windows lit with neon. Bucky pressed close against a brick wall as patrol cars hummed past - flashing torch-lights through the dim alley. He grabbed hold of the unused fire escape that zig-zagged up the building’s surface, pulling himself up to the first platform. He began to climb, not knowing where he would go or if he would come back. Dull starships illuminated the foggy air above him.

\--

«Imminent collision detected»

“Yes, I think I detected this also.” A voice, reverberating through metallic chasms.

A second voice, farther than the first. “This is no time to snark at the ship, dear brother. It has done you no harm.” 

“Well, I personally feel that it’s a perfect time, seeing as we could be dead in the next three minutes.”

“And you wish your last moments to be of petty resentment?”

“Yes, that sounds fitting.”

«Imminent collision detected»

The first voice, “So, what do you say? Shall we endeavour to make it out of here alive, or sit back and resign ourselves to a violent death?”

“I am— trying to—“

“Or perhaps we might escape in on of those sorry excuses for an escape pod, only to be picked up by pirates.”

“You could— help!”

“Though I suppose they would give us a far quicker death.”

“Loki— don’t just—“

“You seem to be in some difficulty.”

“Then HELP ME!“

«Collision in T minus 6 seconds»

“I think that made things worse.”

“If you don’t—“

«Collision in T minus 4 seconds»

“Now, what does this do?”

“NO—“

«Collision in T minus 2 seconds»

 

\--

Outside the city, there is a desert. Almost no one will leave the city in their lifetime; for most people, they are unable to. The desert stretches off in every direction, a lifeless barrier that separates the city form any other life. Nobody but HYDRA knows where the desert ends, if it does in fact end. Sandstorms rage day and night in the distance, hiding the horizon from sight. Almost no one will leave the city, and no want would wish to do so.

Patrols hide in the shadows of the outer barrier: corrugated steel bolted down over layers of iron and stone. It stretches up and up, from the inside a sheer wall of metal. From the outside, mountains of sand are piled up against its mass - scattered by harsh winds and built up over the years until their peaks almost reach the barrier’s height. The glowing eyes of HYDRA glare out into the night.

Outside the city, the desert is quiet.

Many miles away, farther than even the UNITS see fit to patrol, lies something other than sand. A hanger, swallowed by the storm, hides tucked between two crumbling mountains, with no light or any other way to distinguish the building from its surroundings. 

A ball of fire blazes through the sky above - a red-hot torch lighting up the atmosphere and it plummets down. Below that same sky, a boy is running across rooftops, searching, searching desperately for two people he already knows are dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, this took way too long to write.
> 
> yes, it’s not much for the time took to write it.
> 
> yall should know this about me by now lmao 
> 
> anyway hope you enjoy *jazz hands*


	3. This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate times called for desperate measures.
> 
> And times were desperate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m tired so here’s a chapter before I pass out

_6 Months Earlier_

_Life was a blur of madness as he grew older. Not that it wasn’t before, but he had the conscience to notice it in the later teen years. In between working at the old corner shop, run by the worn and fading Logan (who some whispered was going on 207 years old), studying, and planning increasingly bizarre ways of overthrowing the government with Steve, life around him continued to become more and more claustrophobic. In the depths of what people called the Post-Century Projects, a series of modern project buildings built in the late 21st Century, he could see the ‘them’s and ‘us’s with a clarity no one would ever mention. He knew he was considered a ‘them’ by society long before he understood why._

_While Bucky had the anger that came with being a ‘them’, he could easily keep it bottled up for the appropriate times when letting such anger loose was cathartic. Steve, however, lacked all sense of that control. Not a week went past without him being bruised, cut, or in detention. Bucky minded more than Steve did, however, a matter that had always been rather apparent. Steve would shrug things off his shoulder with a mere “I had them on the ropes”, as though a black eye was nothing but a mere scratch._

_Then of course, there were the protests which soon became riots. He didn’t remember exactly when one became the other but it was sometime after his sixteenth birthday. He started learning how to fight properly after ending up in a crowded prison cell with a sprained wrist. In exchange for small errands around the buildings in their neighbourhood, he would learn how to bandage wounds, block punches, find weak spots, make improvisational weapons, and shoot. He wasn’t proud of it, far from it; the people teaching him expressed their distaste for having the knowledge of these things too, but desperate times call for desperate measures._

_And times were desperate indeed._

~

Bucky pushed his way through the crowded marketplace, between stalls selling old parts and items of questionable legality, between street performers with bins as drums and old guitars in crackling amps, between food vendors offering sweet smelling parcels and stalls shrouded in colourful rugs. Above him, lights floated in different sizes and colours, emitting different brightnesses. Somewhere, a child was wailing through the noise of shouts advertising produce to passers by. He tried to ignore the pain in his stomach that came from two days without food. Since they’d been living in the basement food had become ever more scarce than before. He’d dish out meals, deliberately giving the others more or say he wasn’t hungry to provide them with extra. Steve would give him a cold look but say nothing, for even the kindest heart would die for scraps.  
He pulled the black bandana higher up his face, readjusting it on his nose as he tried to look as calm as possible. He hadn’t found his parents; he hadn’t found his sisters when he looked in their old apartment; and the redhead was right behind him. 

He’d noticed her a month ago, walking behind him and then disappearing, all in different places and at different times. He’d say the blond guy that replaced her was her accomplice, and he was certain that they were government spies. He’d become more careful, more unpredictable, yet she’d still find him a few days later. His family was of no interest to the government; a week before the basement they’d been cut off from SHIELD. It was either a safety move or abandoning a lost cause. He’d been told SHIELD would help them in their time of need, and yet here they were, five people down and living in a damp basement beneath a brothel and an abandoned building, while he was being stalked by two government lap dogs. 

And something was wrong. 

He’d known it since he’d left the last night. The minute he’d reached the end of the alleyway he knew something was wrong. Yet he didn’t turn around. He didn’t go back. He now was regretting it. In hindsight, leaving was probably one of the worst ideas he’d had. He was panicking and regretting not staying. Because he’d found nothing, no traces of his parents and when he’d gone to look for his sisters he couldn’t find them either. There weren’t even traces of clues, only dead ends, and now he was pushing his way through a crowded market trying to lose the girl on his tail. He had to get back. It was an hour until curfew but he needed to find Steve and Angie and Peggy. He had to make sure they were alright. They were the only family he had left. 

Of course Steve hadn’t stopped him. Bucky wished he had. 

Overhead, the rumbling engines of a starship coming in to dock called overhead, lights blinking in dim comparison to the marketplace. A drone squad flew past, low enough that Bucky could see the word ‘UNITS’ painted on the underbellies.  
It would be easier if Steve was with him. It would be less daunting. They were so used to running, Bucky didn’t know what would happen if they stopped.  
He didn’t know what would happen if he was left running alone. 

The end of the marketplace was in sight. The lights were fading and the stalls were thinning out, eventually ending with an old woman hunched over various pieces of jewellery that glowed with a dull quality in the dark. She was more parts than person, a mask covering the lower half of her face as tubes hissed and groaned with each breath. He paused for a moment, looking at the necklaces and bracelets with curiosity. Maybe, once all this was over and everyone was safe, he’s come back and buy one. Becca would suit the blue gem on one of the necklaces. If he could, he’d buy the purple snakebites for Steve.  
The woman snapped her eyes up, unnaturally bright gold and both younger and older than her body. Bucky was nothing but a book, open to be read by her across the table. 

_”Barnes.”_ She rasped, pointing a withered finger at him. _”Barnes.”_

He turned and began running, throwing himself up old fire escapes and over rooftops he began to recognise. She knew his name, and that was enough to cost him his life. Strangers were like fae; the minute they had your name, you were fucked. Below him the streets became thinner and filled with seedy clubs and peeling advertisements. The dull blinking of ships above became slow in comparison to him. He had to escape. He had to find Steve. 

“Shit!” His foot missed a rung on the ladder down the side of the basements alley, causing him to fall the last two meters before quickly landing in a roll. Shaking himself off indignantly, he began to walk towards the hollowed out door before a small body hurled itself into him. 

“Oh jeez, sorry-“ a familiar voice. 

“Wait, Steve?” He pulled the bandana down from his face. 

“Bucky!” Steve threw his arms around Bucky’s neck, burying his face in the taller boy’s shoulder. Bucky could feel him shaking against his body. “Oh my god you’re alright.” 

“Come on, we gotta get inside.” Bucky whispered, stroking the blond’s hair gently. “There’s weird shit goin’ on.” 

“Buck, it’s Peggy an’ Angie. I dunno where they are.” 

He paused for a moment, heart rising to his throat. “What?” First his parents and sisters, now this? “Wha’d ya mean?”

“I went out for’n hour or two and when I got back they were gone, they- there’s a note.” 

“Ok, so they’re not missing-“

“No, Buck- please. I don’t know what ‘t means. They could be fine, but... come on.” Steve hurried down the steps ahead of him, crashing through the door quickly. Everything looked like it had the night before, save for a few extra dishes in the sink. He picked up a blue note with a few numbers and letters on it. “It could be code, but it’s nothing I recognise.” 

Bucky studied it for a moment in the half light. “It’s coordinates.” 

“Yes but for _where_. It’s not in the City.” 

He bit his lip, trying to think. So it’s probably where they’d gone, but where they’d gone didn’t exist. Or it did but outside the city was uncharted territory. Savage and cruel, run by the dust of the land and the few animals that preyed on each other. It was impossible to reach, keeping New York secluded by walls of defences. There were other cities across the country, but why would Peggy and Angie have gone to another city? Why would they risk sneaking onto a plane or ship they’d never be able to afford tickets for, to go to another city and double the chances of being found?  
Bucky paused. “Steve...” he said slowly. “I have an idea. But we need to run, and now.” 

~

_Above the counter in the old corner shop was a small television that played 24 hour news on loop. Mostly, it remained on mute unless the announcements were particularly pressing and thereby the TV would automatically switch its volume on. On the counter itself sat a small speaker which played through old songs most people had never heard of, however Logan refused to ever change the playlist to something more contemporary. Bucky didn’t mind so much, as he could listen to it playing gently in the background as he stocked shelves or sing along quietly to the parts he knew. Logan himself lived above the shop but most often was through the back, behind a bead curtain that once may have been blue or green but was faded with age, smoking or reading or both._

_“I hate this song.” He said one day, not looking up from where he was ticking off crates of apples._

_“Why do you play it?” Bucky asked lightheartedly from where he was standing by the till._

_Logan looked up with a scowl that never seemed to leave his face. Bucky doubted he’d get an answer and began wondering why he asked in the first place.  
“Kid,” the man eventually started. He looked tired, a bone deep tired that comes with too long on the Earth. “I have outlived generations. The rumours are true. I can’t seem to fucking die. I wish I could. These songs,” he gestured to the stereo, “they’re all ones that people I’ve known have loved. I keep them on, playing, in the tortuous fucking sentiment of keeping their memories alive in myself.” _

_Bucky remained silent for a while. He’d heard about these people, people who were few and far between, who could live far longer than anyone else. Not immortal, no, just close enough to it. “I like this song.” He said quietly, looking down at the bright white floor. It was cute. Hopeful._

_What looked like the flash of a smile crossed Logan’s face, before it returned to being a frown again. “Of course you do, kid.”_

_“What does that mean?” He called as Logan disappeared into the back room again. This time, the man remained silent._

~

She stood facing a man shrouded in shadow, most likely for dramatic effect more than any practical reason. Her hip stuck out to the side, arms crossed. “He’s good. They both are.”

“We always knew he was good. We thought you knew that.” 

“I do know that. I know that now. I think you underestimate them.” 

“Are you doubting Fury?” There was a hint of challenge in his voice. 

“Yeah, maybe I am.” She replied dryly. “You’re convinced they’re going to find us and join us.”

“They will.”

“We let his family get taken away by those people!” She shouted, pointing to the outside of the crumbling building. A red light flashed past before it returned to the usual unnatural blue. “You think he’s going to stay with us when he finds that out!”

“He’ll stay because the other one will stay.” 

“Yeah, right.” 

“You doubt that? Need I remind you that you stayed because of another blond with a short fuse?” 

“How about that pod that crashed?” She changed the subject. 

“Two beings. They look human, but... aren’t.”

“Of course they aren’t. Shouldn’t I be going back? Helping them? I look human enough too.”

“We’ve got it covered. You have your mission. We’ll only pull you out when you finish it. You return with them, alive or not. And we need them, preferably, alive.”

She fell silent. 

“All I’m asking is that you two keep an eye on them.” 

“So we hound them where we want them to go.”

“ _Need_ them to go.”

“What if we lose them?” 

“I’m counting on the fact that the great Natasha Romanov doesn’t lose track of people.” 

“Good night, Coulson.” She turned and left, picking her way through the back roads and alley ways until she found her way to the highest vantage point she could manage. 

Anyone who got close enough to her to notice would see an unnaturally green colour to her eyes, but no one ever did. 

~

_“Wild,” Logan said the next time Bucky was on shift._

_“Huh?” Nothing particularly out of the ordinary was happening. The TV was displaying two news readers discussing the headlines, lips moving and no sound being made. An old woman with a tartan trolley was making her way slowly through the thin isles, occasionally stopping to peer at something on the shelves._

_“That fucking song you like.”_

_“You mean it’s crazy I like it-“_

_“No, you incompetent mongoose.” Logan coughed a few times before continuing. “The name of the song.”_

_“Oh, uh... thanks.” Bucky nodded._

_“The one that’s playing now, that’s Bohemian Rhapsody, the one that you were singing earlier was Northern Downpour. Lord knows I’d be arrested if anyone heard American Idiot, but I play it sometimes.”_

_“Why are you telling me this now?” It was the most Logan had ever talked to him._

_“Kid, look at the TV. The news. They’re debating wether or not to make people like you and your boy illegal.” He said quietly, mindful of the other woman in the shop. “And those songs. All by queer artists.”_

_“What’d you mean?” Bucky’s stomach fell. a) Logan knew, and b) they were about to bring back laws older than Logan himself. He didn’t want to believe it. They’d already gone so far backwards it was unbelievable but now..._

_“For someone who can name every component in a quinjet and knows more about astronomy then anyone I’ve ever met, you sure are thick as pig shit.” Logan took a swig from the beer can beside him. “I’ve seen you two when you think no one’s looking. I haven’t seen people in sick fucking love for years. It’s cute. But those guys in charge have been looking to undo three centuries of hard work for fun since they began. First, the PoCent Projects so they could keep all the unfortunate fucks like us in our own area, breeding anger and crime and hard drugs like rabbits._  
_”Then they began increasing competition in the medical industry, pushing prices up and up so people couldn’t get to what they needed. Taxes were cut slowly but kid, twenty five percent in fifteen years is a lot. They cut funding to state schools, heavily militarised their police before replacing them with UNITS, scrapped the wage gap laws, banned same sex marriage- don’t look so shocked, I’m not bullshitting because once upon a time it existed, a time in which I lived need I remind you.  
“They brought in censorship laws like crazy, started infesting other countries governments like a plague. Soon enough, HYDRA ran the world. Then the bloody quadrant, because they sent thousands of our men to fight for land we had no claim to. And now,” he pointed to the TV. “This.” _

_“Why don’t we learn any of this?” Bucky whispered in shock. There had been a time when the world wasn’t one governing body? Or when the quadrant lived in coexistence? Or when Peggy and Angie could have been married? Or when Steve could’ve possibly had access to medicine?  
Logan laughed, long and bitter. _

_“You think HYDRA wants to give you hope? That you can reverse the damage they’ve done?” He slammed the beer can down on the counter, before rubbing his eyes gingerly. “I wish we’d done better, for the sake of your generation.” The conversation was cut short as the door buzzed with a new customer. Bucky smiled softly as Steve appeared through the shelves, the jacket that never quite fit swinging around his torso. Logan retreated to the back silently._

_“Hey,” Steve whispered, taking Bucky’s hand across the counter. “You alright?”_

_Bucky shrugged. “Yes. No. Have you seen the news yet?” The blond nodded, pressing their intertwined fingers to his lips._

_“We’ll be ok, right?” His tone was more hopeful than what his expression read. “They can’t pass it, they- if they do there’s gonna be riots.”_

_“C’mere.” Bucky gestured for Steve to join him on the other side of the counter. The old lady was now peering at the seven brands of milk in the fridge, oblivious to the two boys. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and rested his head on the taller boy’s shoulder. “Whatever happens, we’ll work it out. We always do.”_

_“I’m scared.” Steve whispered, barely audible even in the quiet._

_“Me too.” Outside, the sirens on a UNIT vehicle rose and fell. _Doppler effect_ , Bucky thought. They stood for a few more minutes, waiting for the moment Bucky’s shift ended or the TV announced the outcome of the new laws. He could hear Logan pottering around in the back of the store, and the squeaking wheels on the tartan basket.  
This would be the thing to push him over the edge. To make him so angry he would burn down buildings and then never stop. It wasn’t just because it would hurt him. It would be hurting Steve, and Peggy and Angie, and the Alfonsi-Graceland’s oldest son going through transitioning, and Pin Stuart who’d been housing queer kids in her tiny flat for years, and- _

_The TV buzzed with an announcement. Logan poked his head out from the back. The old lady stopped, listening in. Bucky was holding his breath._

_The TV displayed the stern looking face of HYDRA’s leader, Johann Schmidt, in a crisp suit that probably cost what his parents could make in a year. He ran through the usual propagandist formalities, as to why they were doing what they did, why they ‘cared’. He was the most hated man in the quadrant, but the most feared. Feared more than hated. “We have reached the conclusions, from dubious scrutiny and consultation of the worlds top medical experts that same sex attraction and transitioning between sexes is a mental disorder. We have stopped access to hormone therapy, and acts of a sexual manner with the same sex is now ruled illegal by HYDRA.”  
Bucky kissed Steve’s hair as the smaller boy closed his eyes and rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder. Schmidt continued talking, but Bucky wasn’t listening. He was angry. He was a storm, raging and hell bent on destruction. He hadn’t felt anger like this before. _

_“Fuck.” Logan sighed. “I hope you two stay safe. I don’t have any employees as loyal as you. Can’t lose that.”_

_“Can I call my shift?” Bucky asked, though he could only just hear the words leaving his lips. Logan nodded, slipping his paycheque into handing his worn backpack before waving them off. Steve let go of his waist and then he was storming out of the shop. The cold night air tasted like iron and blood. He was seeing red and it didn’t matter anymore. The unnaturally blue streetlights illuminated his way through the gridded streets, the flashes of drones overhead barely a deterrent to the fire in his soul._

_“Buck,” Steve called behind him. “Buck, come on. What’re you doin’?”_

_He turned around, heartbeat in his ears. “I’m starting a riot.”_

_“Buck wait- they announced it after... there’s a curfew. Seven. Unless authorised, you can’t be on th’ streets.”_

_“Well, we’ll riot against that too.”  
Other people were in the streets now, kids their age stumbling around like they were standing in a dream. It felt like it. They were close enough to the local HYDRA office by that point, the change from tall concrete buildings to classier glass stark in contrast. The cars parked along the side of the road were more advanced, sleeker, or they were the armoured UNIT trucks. Large white rocks lined neat gardens in front of some buildings like soldiers standing to attention. A slender girl darted in front of him and grabbed one, throwing it through an office window. Alarms began to ring but she’d started a mass idea. Bucky grabbed another, aiming for more of the glass building. Others smashed the windows of cars. The harmony of shouts and glass breaking and sirens ringing sounded like music to his ears. Angry, violent music, but so achingly beautiful. The UNIT trucks were being tagged by those with spray paint, red through to purple covering each surface. A group of people ran past with torches, hurling them at the building and cheering with the sudden bright illuminations from inside._

_“You know what’d really piss ‘em off?” Steve shouted, already clambering on top of a UNIT van. Bucky grinned savagely, heart pounding as he followed Steve up. “Right where they can see,” the smaller boy pointed to the burning building. The enormous glass doors were almost directly in front of them._

_“Are you sure?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded, eyes lit with excitement in the firelight. Bucky pulled him in and they were kissing, angry and passionate and intoxicating. A few people began to cheer and holler, others wolf whistled. Glass smashed, spray paint hissed, fire cracked. Steve wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist, weaving his fingers through his dark hair, pulling them closer. He was drowning in Steve’s taste, mint and iron and heat, hands under the blond’s jacket, roaming the thin material of his shirt._

_Of course they would soon enough encounter opposition. UNITS shouting commands at each other, in full riot gear, blasters held in front of them as their shields glowed a hazy green colour. They broke apart for a moment, assessing how far the UNITS had before getting to where they stood holding the van as hostage._

_“I say we have thirty seconds, what’re we gonna do?” Steve said quickly._

_“Make out throw a torch then fucking run.” Bucky nodded at the steady movement of UNITS. They kissed again, quickly but deeply before Steve was fumbling with a box of matches while Bucky ripped some fabric off his scarf._

_“Quick, you got anything in your bag?” Steve said hurriedly. Bucky dug around for a few moments before retrieving-_

_“Logan, if I’d been caught-“ a nearly-empty bottle of Vodka. He made a mental note to thank him. Steve laughed when he noticed what it was as Bucky began shoving the scarf inside it. The minute he was handed a lit match he chucked it down the neck of the bottle and threw it as hard as he could at the crush of police. It smashed on the black tarmac and ate at anything too close with anger, as though it knew who the enemy was._

_“Holy _shit__.” Steve shouted.  
_And then they were running, pausing only once as Steve tagged a wall with the words ‘BE GAY DO CRIME’ in bright purple lettering._  
_They didn’t notice the red head who had been following behind them for most of their way home, nor the blond who took over the journey from her._

~

“Ma and Da used to tell me about a place,” Bucky explained as they walked slowly over rooftops and fire escapes. “They said it was a place I could go if everything went south. They called it SHIELD.” 

“SHIELD?” Steve asked, voice heavy with scepticism. 

“Shush- not so loud.” Bucky hissed. His bag thumped against his back with each jump he took, bandana soon feeling damp with breath on his face. “Yes. Don’t ask me what it stands for because I don’t remember. Something like Specialised something Intelligence, something something Dictatorship.” 

“So, the resistance.” 

“Yeah. Anyway, they have a base somewhere hidden. HYDRA have been trying to find it for years but apparently they’re untraceable.” 

“Advanced tech, or old?” 

“Ancient, probably. Steve, maybe my family isn’t missing.” He continued, voice filled with hope. “Maybe they were being followed and found their way to SHIELD.” 

“So Peggy and Angie, presuming that they’re ok...”

“They could be too!” He laughed at the turn in the situation. 24 hours ago he had no hope. Now he had a trace. “Steve, they could be alive!”  
The old woman in the market had almost completely disappeared from his mind, along with most of his fears. In that moment it was him, Steve, the rooftops and the sky. 

~

_“Stay the night?” Steve asked when they were in the safety of their building. They were both panting, out of breath from running and cheeks flushed from the cold. “Peggy and Angie are still away with work, so...”_

_“Are you suggesting we break the law?” Bucky grinned, trailing behind Steve up the stairs. He’d admit, when letting his mind wonder, sometimes he’d imagined what Steve would feel like under his hands, what his pale skin would taste like, or what he’d do to Bucky-  
The other boy laughed, turning to face him. _

_“If you want to. Come on,” Steve ran faster up the concrete steps, not pausing until they reached his door. “We aren’t letting this riot spirit die just yet.”  
The minute the door had shut behind them, Steve was dragging Bucky down to meet his lips as they crashed into walls and door frames, ripping each other’s shirts from their backs. He could feel the cool metal of snakebites under his tongue, and taste iron and mint on Steve’s. His heart was racing, pounding against his skin as though trying to meet the smaller boy’s between them. _

_“My god you’re pretty when you’re like this,” Bucky said breathlessly as they crashed into Steve’s room._

_“What, violently rioting or half naked?”_

_Bucky shrugged. “Both.”_

_“Does that mean I’m prettier when I’m fully naked?” He pouted a little, moving his index finger slowly across Bucky’s jaw._

_“Darling, you’d better walk the talk.”_

_“Oh, I will.” He kicked his jeans to the side, blue light from beyond the window dancing on his skin. “But you can’t leave me alone in this.”_

_It was fire and heat, bodies moving together as teeth grazed skin like tires on tarmac, lips red as blood and anger. Each touch was precious, each moment savoured, and they were hidden from the world for just a little while longer. For the while, it was fun to break the law and continue giving HYDRA a very large middle finger, if only in privacy, but afterwards as the adrenaline wore off a little, they both realised what the new worlds law meant._

_“They hate us.” Steve said through the dark. He lay with his head on Bucky’s chest, one arm slung across the other boy’s waist._

_“They do.” Bucky replied with far too much frankness for the situation._

_“We can’t go out past seven anymore.”_

_“Nope.”_

_“We just broke the law. We’re technically classed ‘mentally disturbed’.”_

_“Yep.”_

_“This all seems helpless.” Steve sighed, closing his eyes._

_“But we’re gonna survive, right? We always have.”_

_“Buck-“_

_“Please, Steve.” Bucky whispered through the dark. He could feel the blond moving his head to look up slightly, grip tightening a little on his waist. “Promise me. End of the line.”  
They knew what it meant. The ‘I love you’ that they’d had since before time began, a whisper at the beginning of the universe for their hearts. _

_“End of the line.”_

~

For the rest of the night they remained sheltered in the secluded cover of an abandoned lot of flats. After checking the top two floors, they lay out their sleeping bags on the cold concrete beneath a glass roof that reflected the blues and reds and oranges of light outside. A few shouts occasionally echoed through the quiet, or the drunken singing of someone out too late with too much influence over the UNITS. Somewhere a bird cooed in mournful song. 

Bucky lay staring at the ceiling, watching the occasional changes in light above them. It was peaceful, yet terrifying. For all he knew there could be UNITS right behind them. He knew once they found the Barnes son missing they’d be out to find him. He hoped he could keep Steve safe for long enough before that happened. 

“Hey,” Steve wove their fingers together in between the sleeping bags huddled in the corner. “Do you remember... just after our first time?”

Bucky laughed. “When we thought the UNITS were coming to arrest us for throwing a _very_ badly made Molotov cocktail at them, and it turned out it was Becca coming to see where I was.” 

“I’ve never seen someone pull on a pair of jeans so fast.” 

“You should’ve seen her face when I answered th’ door. She looked so embarrassed, I honestly felt so bad. I didn’t know that you’d given me so many hickeys.” He chuckled. They’d both been mortified, and the look of realisation on his sisters face was engrained in his memory. It would have been worse if she’d knocked twenty minutes earlier, something Bucky had said that offered no comfort to her. 

“Didn’t your parents nearly ground you for a year?” 

“I’m not sure for what part. Smashing a government building or having sex.” 

“I’m not even sure if we were legal.” 

“Sure we were.” Bucky shrugged. “If we were straight anyway. Over sixteen, right? Not that it matters. We’re illegal no matter how old we are.” 

“Jeez, remember when we could smash the headlights on a UNIT car and not go on the run?”

“Times were simple.” 

“They were indeed.” 

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s jaw, breath tickling his neck. It was sweet and chaste, but tired. Tired to the bone like the city outside and the stars above them. “Come on. Let’s catch some rest before running again.” 

~

“What’s the update on the new...”

“They’re stable. For now. Had an opportunity to take a look at their ship?”

“Are you kidding? Fury wouldn’t let me near it, so of course I did.” The shorter boy pressed something by his temple and the safety goggles on his eyes folded back behind his ears. He discarded a multitool on the old metal bench. 

“Find anything of interest?” 

“Banner, it’s the most interesting thing that’s happened here in years. Come on, I’ll show you.” The door of the cramped workshop hissed open as the two began making their way through the dark hallways, illuminated only by emergency lighting. “Three years of not leaving the compound and suddenly it’s like Christmas has come early.” He muttered, wiping grease on his jeans. 

“Tony, are you sure we’re not gonna be caught?” 

“Absolutely positive. Besides, if we do,” he began punching in various numbers into an old security pad beside the doors to the equally as old hangar. “What’s the worst that could happen?” The door swung open, leading to the enormous metal cave on the other side. Various spacecraft were dotted around, dwarfed by the size of the room despite the craft themselves ranging from the size of a large car to a few stacked houses. Even if there was a comfortable temperature in the rest of the compound the hangar was freezing.

“Here we are, Bruce.” Tony stood a little way off, gesturing grandly to a sleek, oblong looking ship. It was slightly larger than most of the other craft around them, and far smoother in design. “Come on up, I’ll give you a hand.” He clambered masterfully up the side, being as quiet as he could, before helping the other boy on to the roof of the ship. 

“Wow.” Bruce breathed. Part of the roof began to melt away, revealing a minimalist interior. It was damaged, yes, but not completely destroyed. Two seats were sitting at the very front, while another six sat behind them, facing each other. He could guess behind the small room was probably some sort of workroom, or a storage cupboard. 

“I’ve had a poke around already.” Tony hopped down and made himself comfortable in one of the seats. “They’ve got this part, a sort of workshop, a few drawers of freeze dried food, water, and a small bathroom type thing. I don’t think this ship was meant to last long.” 

“What’d you mean?” Bruce joined him with some apprehension. 

“Well, all the ships that SHIELD have sent off have been larger than this if they’re meant to last a few months of travel. They’ve had actual food, not just freeze dried constipation fuel, far more water than this _and_ a system to filter piss _back_ into water. Most pirates have better ships than this.” 

“So, this...” he nodded slowly. “Is a fancy escape craft from a larger ship?” 

“Or it’s a stolen ship from another planet. Bruce, I think whatever these new folks are and wherever they came from, they were running.”

“Running? From what?”

Tony shrugged, sitting back. “I dunno. Other warring species? The law? HYDRA? I mean, how much of the quadrant do they run? All of it?”

“Tony, wait- you said running.”

“Yes?” 

“Does that mean whatever they were running from is coming after them?”


	4. Devil Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve have a plan. Or some semblance of one, anyway.

_Steve’s ma always had deep wrinkles and greying hair since as long as he could remember. Her fingers were long - delicate bones moving beneath skin; bird’s bones. Her grip was strong, though, whenever she grasped Steve’s shoulder or held his hand as they walked to the crumbling community centre that served as a church each Sunday._

_Steve’s ma wore large, black boots and threadbare cardigans. She never once shouted though Steve had given her plenty of reason to. Every morning she was dressed and working by the time Steve dragged himself out of bed and continued her work until long after Steve was asleep._

 

_She smelled of earth and smoke. Her eyes were soft, if distant at times. She was afraid but didn’t show it. She made their solemn home feel safe, detached from the violence that seemed to erupt from the very darkness of the night. She was safety, and they had stolen that safety away._

 

_~_

 

They had a plan. Or some semblance of one, at any rate.

 

“Shit,” Bucky swore softly, turning swiftly to plant his back against the solid wall beside them. Steve quickly followed suit, and a few moments later, the blinding searchlight of an aerial UNIT plastered the street before them. They stood, side by side, breathing heavily in the shadows until the threat had passed.

 

“Okay,” Steve whispered. “Let’s get going.” Detaching themselves from the inky-black darkness of the alleyway, they returned to the slightly more vulnerable darkness beyond.

 

They didn’t have far to travel, but their journey along the cliffs and gulches of the city took longer than Bucky had expected. He hadn’t risked staying out past curfew in a long while, and was now constantly aware of the humming engines that faded in and out of hearing, signalling danger close by. Their footfalls began as the quiet thuds of concrete, then switched to the hollow shuddering of aluminium plates. The landscape below constantly shifted between labyrinths of alleyways or the open spaces reserved for markets and HYDRA demonstrations. Smog spewed out from factories and other, more formidable buildings. They kept going.

 

The crimson light of dawn was touching the edges of the sky by the time Bucky and Steve arrived. The sign inside the door pronounced the shop ‘closed’.

 

Bucky tapped the glass, then lightly pounded it when that was met with no reply. He hit the door again, cringing at the loud ‘thunk’ that punched through the quiet street. “Logan,” he half-whispered. “Open up. It’s me.”

 

Finally, a bearded face appeared from between the shadows inside. It glared down at them through the murky glass, then Logan was opening the door, grabbing them and pulling them inside.

The shop looked strange in the early morning, golden light filtering in through the broken shutters and landing on dust-covered shelves or faded curtains.

 

“What in God’s name are you two doing?” Logan growled, shutting the door behind them.

 

Steve stepped forward, shoulders back. “We gotta get outta here.”

 

“Out? Out where?”

 

Bucky looked up. “Out of the City, we mean.”

 

Logan stared at the two boys for a minute, glancing between the two of them with a frown over his dark eyes. Then he grunted and gestured for them to follow him upstairs. They did.

 

~

 

_Bucky’s ma had always seemed angry at the world - of what it had grown to become. She glared out at morale-boosting demonstrations and shouted back at those she didn’t agree with. She came home every night with a sour look and an obvious rage boiling underneath her skin._

 

_But Bucky’s ma had tried to hide that world from him for as long as she’d been able; shielding him from that world of hatred and fear. She’d known, Bucky thought, she’d known what it would turn him into. How the world of HYRDA would blacken his soul and dampen his light no matter whose side he was on._

 

_She sat, now, on a metal platform inside a long, metal corridor, next to a large, metal door. Her small hands were clasped in her lap. The lights above tinged her skin yellow._

 

_She sat, staring at the empty wall opposite. Waiting._

 

_The solid door buzzed, then swung open into darkness. A looming man appeared, wearing a rumpled suit, and walked a few paces until he was standing in front of her. “You can enter now, ma’am,” he said._

 

_She stood carefully and allowed him to lead her into the gloom._

 

~

 

“So,” Logan said, “the patrols are going to be your biggest problem if you want to leave the City. Back and forth, back and forth. On the ground, in the air. Fuckin’ bastards are everywhere. And if they catch you, you’re as good as dead.”

 

“So how do we get past ‘em?” Steve asked,  sitting cross-legged on the floor.

 

Logan sighed. “Your best bet is to travel by night, of course. You might be safe on the rooftops for the start, but security’s only going to get harder the closer you get to the City walls. I’d tell you to try your luck in the underground paths, but I doubt you’ll find even a sewer pipe that isn’t infested with patrol bots these days. Probably a beeline is your best option - getting from here to there as fast as possible. Running straight through houses or any sheltered area whenever’s possible. ‘Course, some will be HYDRA occupied, but I can tell you how to spot ‘em, to steer clear. Only be in the open when there’s no other option, and only for a short time.”

 

“What about the walls?” Bucky asked. “I’ve seen those things, and I don’t think we’ll manage jus’ climbing up there with some rope and a head-torch.”

 

Logan shook his head darkly. “That’s the other problem. But I think I’ve got a way to divert—“

 

A sudden thump came from below the three of them. Then another. Someone was banging on the door, just as Bucky had been ten minutes before.

 

Logan growled and unfolded himself from the ground until he was standing before them. “Stay here.”

 

The stairs creaked and the floorboards groaned as he made his way to the door. Bucky and Steve sat upstairs, staring at each other. There was nowhere to run to if they had already been found; nowhere to hide. Bucky grabbed Steve’s hand - squeezed hard.

 

Below in the shop, Logan swung open the door to reveal two figures clothed in dark fatigues - a woman and a man. They held themselves carefully as if waiting for the moment to strike.

 

“Good morning,” greeted the redhead. “We believe you may be housing two possible fugitives of the law.” She grinned - a wicked grin. “How can we help?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for posting such a short chapter, so here's some messy concept art I did a while ago (+tea stains).
> 
> :P


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